LITMIR.BIZ

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and conifer. A wrought-iron gate between two stone pillars protected the entrance, and a chain-link fence enclosed the grounds. She’d had to identify herself over an intercom before the gates opened electronically.

      The stone-and-cedar mansion nestled against a granite ridge. The main section rose three stories. Several different levels—landscaped terraces and cantilevered decks—made the house seem as though it had grown organically from the surrounding rocks and trees.

      Liz went down a short hallway beside the staircase. A beveled glass door opened onto the second-story outdoor walkway made of wood planks. At the far end, the walkway opened onto a huge, sunlit deck.

      Towering pines edged up to the railing. Hummingbird feeders and birdhouses hung from the branches. Several padded, redwood chairs and chaises faced outward to enjoy the view, but no one was outside. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined this side of the house, which was very likely Jerod Crawford’s bedroom. Lucky for her, the drapes were closed.

      As Liz walked to the railing, a fresh mountain breeze caressed her cheeks. Twitters from chipmunks and birds serenaded her. Multicolored petunias in attached wooden flower boxes bobbed cheerfully.

      People like her didn’t live in places like this. A grassy field dotted with scarlet Indian paintbrush and daisies rolled downhill, past a barn and another outbuilding, to a shimmering blue lake, surrounded by pines. In the distance, snow-covered peaks formed a majestic skyline.

      At the edge of the lake, a wood dock stretched into the water. Though she was over a hundred yards away, she thought she recognized Ben. He faced a woman with platinum-blond hair and a bright red sweater.

      Though Liz couldn’t hear their words, they were obviously arguing. The woman gestured angrily. Ben pulled back as though he couldn’t stand being close to her.

      She stamped her foot.

      And then, she slapped him.

      BEN RESTRAINED AN URGE to strike back at Charlene. Much as she had earned the right to have her ass thrown off his grandpa’s property, that wasn’t Ben’s call.

      Through tight lips, he said, “You’re not always going to have things your way.”

      “No matter what you think, I’m the one in charge around here. Me. I’m Jerod’s wife.”

      A ridiculous but undeniably true statement. At age thirty-six, she was only two years older than Ben himself. He hated having to consult with her on his grandpa’s medical care and would never understand why the old man listened to her.

      “Be reasonable, Charlene. I’ve been talking to specialists and neurosurgeons. They think Jerod’s tumor could be removed.”

      “I don’t want your doctors.” She screeched like a harpy. “Jerod is happy with Dr. Mancini. And so am I.”

      Dr. Al Mancini had been the Crawford family doctor for years, and he was competent to treat sniffles and scraped knees. But a brain tumor? “Mancini isn’t even practicing anymore. He’s retired.”

      “And Jerod is his only patient. Dr. Mancini comes here every single day. Your specialist would put Jerod in the hospital. And he refuses.”

      Unfortunately, Charlene was correct. His stubborn, Texas-born grandpa had planted himself here and wouldn’t budge. Every day, the tumor inside his head continued to grow. His vision was seriously impaired, and he barely had the strength to get out of his wheelchair. “If not an operation, he needs access to other treatments. Radiation. Cutting-edge medications.”

      “He won’t go. And I’m not going to force him.”

      For the moment, he abandoned this topic. There were other bones to pick. “At least, cancel your damn dinner party. Jerod needs peace and quiet.”

      “You want to pretend like he’s already dead. Well, he’s not. He needs activity and excitement. That’s why he married me.”

      “Really? I thought it had more to do with your thirty-six double-D chest.”

      She slapped him again. This time, he’d earned it.

      With a swish of her hips, Charlene flounced up the hill toward the house.

      Five years ago, when his grandpa had announced that he wanted to marry a Las Vegas showgirl, Ben had been almost proud of the old guy. After a lifetime of hard work that had started in the Texas oil fields, Jerod had the right to amuse himself. Even if it meant the rest of the family had to put up with a gold digger.

      Charlene had readily agreed to a very generous prenuptial agreement. Whether their marriage was ended by divorce or death, she walked away with a cool half million in cash. Not a bad deal.

      Ben had expected Charlene to divorce his grandpa after a year and grab the cash, but she’d stayed…and stayed…and stayed. In her shallow way, she might even love Jerod. And he had to admit that their May–December marriage had turned out better than his. Nothing good had come from that union, except for his daughter.

      He walked to the end of the small dock. A spring wind rippled the waters. Trout were jumping. In the rolling foothills of Colorado, he saw the swells of the ocean. He missed his home in Seattle that overlooked the sea, but he cherished every moment here with his grandpa as the old man prepared for his final voyage.

      Behind his back, Ben heard someone step onto the dock. Had Charlene come back? He turned and saw a gray maid’s uniform. “What is it?”

      “You must be Ben.” She marched toward him with her hand outthrust. “I’m Liz Norton. The new maid.”

      He accepted her handshake. Though she was a slender little thing, her grip was strong. He took a second look at her. The expression in her luminous green eyes showed a surprising challenge. Not the usual demeanor for household staff. “Is this your first job as a servant?”

      “Servant?” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I can’t say that I like that job description. Sounds like I ought to curtsey.”

      “I suppose you have a more politically correct job title in mind.”

      She pulled her hand away from his grasp and thought for half a second. “Housekeeping engineer.”

      In spite of her droopy gray uniform, she radiated electricity, which might explain why her hair looked like she’d stuck her finger in a wall socket. He would have dismissed her as being too cute. Except for the sharp intelligence in her green eyes.

      “Nice place you’ve got here.” She stepped up beside him. “Are there horses?”

      “Not anymore. Horses were my grandmother’s passion. Arabians. God, they were beautiful.” He had fond memories of grooming the horses with his grandmother. “After she passed away, ten years ago, Jerod sold them to someone who would love them as much as she had.”

      “Wise decision. Every living creature needs to be with someone who loves them.”

      A hell of a profound statement. “Are you? With someone who loves you?”

      “I do okay.” She cocked her head and looked up at him. “How about you, Ben? Who loves you?”

      “My daughter,” he responded quickly. “Natalie.”

      Her expression went blank as if she had something to hide. All of a sudden, her adorable freckled face seemed less innocent. He wondered why she’d approached him, why she spoke of love.

      There had been incidents in the past when female employees had tried to seduce him, but Liz’s body language wasn’t flirtatious. Her arms hung loosely at her sides. Her feet were planted solidly. Something else motivated her.

      “You have a reputation as an adventurer,” she said. “What kind of stuff do you do? Something with the airplanes you manufacture?”

      “I test-pilot our planes. Not for adventure. It’s work.”

      She arched an eyebrow. “Cool job.”

      “I’m

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